


Clothes Were Made to be Removed

by orphan_account



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-03
Updated: 2012-05-03
Packaged: 2017-11-04 18:36:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/396955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set vaguely somewhere in a happy version of season 5-ish. Absolute silliness and porn. Dean is getting a bit bemused about the fact that Cas never gets naked when they hook up, and resolves to get to the bottom of it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Clothes Were Made to be Removed

Dean is feeling frustrated. It is hardly a feeling he is unfamiliar with. Pretty much everything in his life so far has been perpetually frustrating, and this particular brand – sexual, that is – is the sort that, although he manages pretty well, is kinda hard to avoid when you spend the majority of your life driving ten to fifteen hour road-trips across the country with your little brother. Although Dean may be fairly proficient at getting laid, sometimes it does feel like he's still fifteen years old, sleeping on the top bunk above a pre-teen Sam – who is _still reading at ten-to-midnight by flash-light_ – and trying to jerk himself off very, very, very quietly. 

But past traumas aren't the point. It's not even that sort of sexual frustration, for once. For once, Dean is actually getting laid very, very regularly, and (even more astonishingly) by the same, regular person. Or, sort-of person. Angel. And fuck if Castiel isn't a good lay. 

Surprisingly enough. 

But, that doesn't make it not frustrating. It's good, this thing (all of a fortnight now! A new record!) with Cas. Think we covered that. It's great. Orgasms abound, and, if you promise never, ever to bring it up, occasionally a little cuddle after. Look, it can be lonely out on the road, okay? You try spending your whole life holed up in dingy motels with your gassy brother. Who needs to eat that many legumes, anyway? Dean will beat Sam a new one if he decides to seriously switch to the dark side – as in, not like, Antichrist hell-on-earth dark-side. Vegetarianism. He's _one step away_. 

Castiel is good at sex. He is especially good at oral sex. Dean isn't sure why – too many chubby-bubby contests in heaven? Not worrying about the limits of his vessel? – but the man just does not have a gag reflex. And ah! Puppy dog eyes. Looking up at him, all serious and slightly detached even while his straight, un-smiling mouth is stretched around Dean's cock. No. Fucking. Complaints. 

And hand-jobs! He's good at them. Once again, and Dean's not sure, but it might be in the eyes. He does this thing, where he just watching Dean, unblinkingly, while Dean undresses himself, then just waits for him to come over, sit next to him on the bed. Then Castiel will just start stroking him, slowly, deliberately. Methodically. He doesn't move, really, anything but his hand, sometimes his mouth if he wants to say something. He just watches as Dean gulps for air, falls back to support himself on his elbows, gasps some more and slowly, deliberately, methodically comes apart under his handiwork. 

It's good. It's great. Bit weird, but Dean loves it. 

But – and there's always a but – it's still frustrating. Because Dean still hasn't seen Castiel naked. Not even shirtless. He's seen the angel's dick, but he hasn't seen his testicles. Is that weird? 

Yeah, it's weird to be thinking about an angel's testicles. 

It's just never come up, the Cas-naked thing. Dean has tried – he's undone buttons on Castiel's shirt, removed his tie. He even got the trench-coat all the way off once, but, Castiel just doesn't seem to notice? And then he's got his mouth wrapped around Dean's cock, and he's sliding his lips all the way down – like, ALL the way – and what's Dean meant to do? Complain? 

He's not going to complain, not when he's finally got a nice, willing, loyal cum-receptacle (that might be blasphemy...), but he is going to make a resolution: Tonight, he is going to see Castiel naked. 

Butt naked. 

*

Sam is perfectly aware of why he and Dean get separate motel rooms now. Aware, but disinclined to discuss it. Dean isn't sure whether it's some mild, suppressed homophobia or just his goody-two-shoes idealistic “unicorns are real and angels wear halos” attitude he still touts on occasion which makes it damn near impossible for him to imagine Castiel getting it on. 

Dean sits alone in his empty hotel room – double, not twin – quite happily until Cas shows up. He watches _Crank_ on pay-per-view. Then, at about ten-to-midnight, Cas is on the bed next to him. It took a long fucking while to get used to it, and although he still wants to know what Castiel does when he pops off God-doesn't-have-a-clue where, Dean likes the fact that he never makes an entrance using a door. 

“What it this?” Castiel says, gesturing towards the T.V., and Dean flicks a button on the remote to turn off the movie. Can't let Castiel start watching a Jason Statham flick (again), the guy already has much too much of a fondness for action movie one liners. Anyway, there's nakedness to get to. 

Dean gets to work immediately. 

“A distraction,” he answers, tugging at the lapels of Castiel's trench-coat, pushing it back off the angel's body and onto the bed. Castiel doesn't object. Castiel possibly doesn't register. “Just waiting for you to get back. Now you get to be the distraction.”

Castiel regards Dean, as he continues to slowly undress him. “A distraction from what?” he asks, as Dean loosens, and then pulls off the angel's tie. 

“Nothing. You have my _full_ attention.” Throwing the tie over his shoulder, Dean leans in and captures Castiel's lips with his own, sucking his lower lip between his and nibbling at it gently. Castiel groans deep in his throat, pushing his body against Dean's and letting his hands stray, surprise surprise, towards his lover's crotch. Not breaking the kiss, Dean shifts back, brushing Castiel's hands away. It's always the same – naught to sixty, lips to cocks, nothing in between. Dean has often wished in the past, he's gotta admit, that that was the norm: Foreplay gets a little old, here and there, when you're a dude and you have little brother and demon hunting imposed time constraints. But now he's being deprived of what he's always sort of considered the boring but necessary bit, well...

He wants it. A lot. 

Castiel seems confused, pulling away from Dean and looking at him curiously. “Have I done something wrong?” he asks earnestly. 

“No,” Dean says quickly. “No, no, no. Just... you don't have to be anywhere tonight, do you?”

“Not anywhere that operates within the same concepts and mechanics of 'time', no.”

“Awesome,” Dean says, and reaches out with one hand to cup Castiel's neck, pulling him closer, back in for another deep kiss. “Let's just... take it a bit slow?” he says, lips against Castiel's. Cas still looks a bit bewildered, but nods in agreement. 

“If that is what you desire,” he says, and Dean grins, sitting back again. 

“Alright then.” Dean surveys Castiel as if he's a knot that needs unravelling, then grins cheekily. He reaches out to the buttons of Castiel's shirt, and starts flicking them open, one by one. “Lets start here.”

“Why?” Cas asks, honestly dumbfounded. He watches as his shirt is undone under Dean's hands, pulled back off his shoulders along with the jacket, and down his arms until they're lying in a messy bundle on the bed. “Is this significant?” 

_Hell yeah_ , Dean thinks. This is what he misses: Castiel is fucking gorgeous – or, that Novak dude is, anyway. But it's not just his body (although Dean has no complaints there). It's the way he holds himself. He's a mess of contradictions, in a way. His shoulders slouch, but he still seems to be sitting ramrod straight. His skin goosebumps under Dean's touch, but he doesn't seem to be quite present in his body, as if he doesn't understand (or even want to understand) its responses. Well, beyond erection-ejaculation. Cas is partial to those particular responses. 

Leaning forward, Dean presses his lips to Castiel's collarbone, tracing the shape of it with his tongue and a slight graze of teeth. He hears breath hitch above him, and smiles against the angel's warm skin. “Lie back,” he says, and Castiel acquiesces, lowering himself down until he is stretched out on the bed, knees hanging off the side. 

“We are unequal,” he says, one hand coming up to tug at the hem of Dean's t-shirt. He's trying, Dean thinks. That's the other thing – Castiel has never put any effort in getting Dean undressed more than the required minimum either. He can clearly see what Dean's trying to do here, and is trying to join in best he can. Pleased, Dean pulls his cotton shirt over his head, shifting his body down parallel to Castiel's and kissing him again. 

Beneath him, Castiel opens up: His lips open up to Dean's tongue, wet and soft, and his body seems to open up to Dean's exploring touch, shivering and twitching as he brushes sensitive skin. Unhurriedly, Dean learns his body. Nipples, not much response, really, beyond a slight stiffening. However, the soft flesh of his abdomen... When Dean sweeps his hands down over that skin on his way to his next destination – Castiel's belt – the angel's whole body seems to tense up for a moment before shivering deliciously as a thick moan escapes his throat. Dean grins against his mouth, and breaks their kiss. 

“This is different,” Castiel says, voice hoarse, as Dean returns to his exploration of his torso – this time with lips and tongue. An uncertain pause, and then, “... Is this the _correct_ method?”

“No such thing, dude,” Dean answers, not pausing in his descent. “I'm going to take your pants off now, then suck you off, if you're cool with that.”

“I would like that very much,” Castiel replies. It's funny, Cas has never said no to anything Dean has asked of him – not in this arena, particularly – but still Dean finds he has to ask every time they cross a new boundary, and sometimes also when they're crossing old, well traversed boundaries. Might still be something to do with the whole angel-of-the-lord thing, but more likely just the fact that Dean loves hearing the (relative) enthusiasm in Castiel's voice when he gives him the all clear. 

This is new ground. Dean hasn't given Cas head yet – it's always been vice versa up till now. Dean thinks he's been holding out for a special occasion. With deft fingers, he flicks open Castiel's belt, and pulls it out of the way before moving onto the zipper tracking down over Castiel's encouragingly bulging business pants. In one quick movement, he pulls the rough fly downwards, hearing Castiel moan at just the feeling of that movement over his straining erection. 

_I'm finally going to see my boyfriend's balls_ , Dean thinks, then mentally chastises himself for thinking the term 'boyfriend'. Then, with his thumbs, he slides Castiel's pants and boxer shorts down and off his legs, sliding off the bed himself as he does so. Looking up, he sees Castiel is watching him carefully over his own curved erection, and he smiles warmly, pressing a quick kiss to Castiel's calf before playfully tugging his blue-black socks off with his teeth, and there--!

Naked as the day he was, uh, brought into being or whatever. Getting to his feet, Dean looks down at the angel, pretend-scrutinising (really ogling) his naked body. On the one hand, no surprises, everything where it's meant to be. 

On the other... _Oh my fucking god._

“You could be the fucking centrefold, you know that, angel?” Dean remarks, dropping once more to his knees and wriggling his way back between Castiel's spread thighs. 

“If it would make you happy,” Cas says, and Dean laughs. 

“Oh no, no way. This is just for me, got it? I mean, I might take a few polaroids at some point, but no-one else, not a soul, gets this view, okay?”

Castiel shakes his head, as if not remotely understanding what Dean is talking about, but says, “Of course. Will you please suck my cock?”

“Since you asked so nicely,” Dean says, and immediately goes to town. He's not got quite the same skills as his mysteriously gag-reflex free angel, but Cas doesn't seem to care. He just cants his hips up into Dean's mouth and lets out a long, gravelly moan, letting his hands settle on Dean's skull and neck. 

Although his instincts say to close his eyes and get to work, Dean doesn't let his eyes shut, not for a second, fixing them instead on Castiel's body above him. His spine seems to twist and roll as he wriggles about on the bed, fast approaching that peak he recently uncovered. Dean's still not quite used to doing it with someone who's only barely not a virgin, and often finds he needs to slow down with Cas where he'd usually go full pelt, just to make it last. Not today, though. Today he just moves his mouth faster, deeper, down Castiel's cock, tongue working the sensitive spots along the length until all at once the angel's chest is heaving, his skin is flushing, his mouth is damp and open and his come is spilling down Dean's throat. 

“ _Fuck_ ,” Dean says, when he pulls off several moments later, wiping the back of his hand across his mouth. 

“Mmmnmnnm,” Castiel says in reply, which may have been intended to be words. Climbing onto the bed, Dean crawls up so that he's level with his lover, and turns his head towards him to kiss him softly but openly, tasting the few, un-swallowed remnants of come on the touch of his tongue to Castiel's. Gradually, the angel's breathing evens out and he seems to come back to himself after a short period of being missing in a haze of post-orgasmic sluggishness. Dean breaks the kiss, and shucks himself out of his own jeans with little effort, leaving himself wearing only his – now damp and tenting – boxer briefs. 

“Would you like me to finish you with my mouth?” Castiel asks, his voice nearly unintelligible with how rough it becomes when he's just come. Dean smirks, and for a brief moment imagines himself kneeling over Castiel's face, feeding his cock down into those open, cock-sucking lips. Cas wouldn't even have to move. It's tempting, but another day, maybe. 

“Not right now,” he says, pulling his underwear off, kicking them off his legs so that they are lying, completely naked, side by side. “Just wanna look at you. C'mere.”

Tugging him by the arm, Dean pulls Castiel over, onto his body, so that he's sitting across his thighs. Cas immediately reaches out to take Dean's cock in hand, but pauses, looking to Dean for permission, given that he'd stopped him before. “Go ahead, Cas,” he says, grinning and looking up at the angel. His hands come to settle on Castiel's thighs, brushing up and down indulgently over coarse hairs, and sliding around to fondle his arse as Castiel licks his own palm at length before taking Dean in hand – he's already leaking like crazy just from watching Cas come apart above him, but whatever – and stroking confidently. 

“I just want you like this all the time,” Dean says, letting his eyelids drop into a half lidded stare, keeping his gaze fixed on Castiel's still flushed body, on his blushing, soft cock. “You're so fucking sexy.”

Castiel looks down, focusing on the movements of his own steady hand and knitting his brows. “I wasn't aware my clothes, or lack thereof, were so important to you. Honestly, I hadn't given them any real thought until now.”

Dean snorts. “I guess that figures – fuck, just like that, yeah Cas.”

Castiel tightens his grip, works Dean a little harder and faster. “I suppose this is considered more intimate?”

“We can get more intimate still, angel,” Dean gasps out. “I'm going to come buried inside you one of these days, count on it.”

“Or I inside of you,” Castiel replies thoughtfully, shortening his strokes over the head of Dean's cock the way he knows he likes it when he is approaching climax. 

“Either. Both.” Dean lets out a shaky breath and squeezes his eyes shut. “Gonna come now just thinking about it, baby.” 

Castiel takes on a still more concentrated expression and works Dean through his shuddering climax as it comes. He looks down at Dean fondly. 

“You need only ask,” he says. 

This is it, Dean thinks as he tugs Castiel down on top of him, wrapping their bodies together. Castiel probably needs to go soon, to whatever other dimensional plane he's required on, but for now, Dean has every intention of drifting off to sleep and feeling Castiel's skin against his own as he does so. They're not using any small/big words, so Dean just says, “You're awesome, Cas,” and feels satisfied, and not the least bit frustrated, sexually or otherwise.


End file.
